Internal Journey

 I have a chariot

Hidden,

Not far from here.

But as yet

I have no destination.

The bleeding of my soul

Is a slow process,

That needs careful attention

And nursing.

A light shines incessant

Yellow, Gold and Green,

A light,

That is unseen to man

Yet known to us all

If we’d tap our resources

Its splendour could be revealed.

I have travelled vastly

But my limbs do not ache.

Indeed,

They build and they strengthen

With every new town I enter,

Where every face

Is always different

Cast with a thousand lines,

All have a blank expression

And some sometimes cry.